


Between Breaths

by TheMadKatter13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breathplay, Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Kissing, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I couldn’t breathe. I’ve never had a dream where I woke up like that before."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Really? I have. Usually ends a little differently."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about [this](http://themadkatter13.tumblr.com/post/130435101534/scott-i-couldnt-breathe-ive-never-had-a) quote, and though I'm mid-other-fic, I had to stop to bring you this. You're welcome. Title brought to you by [Blaqk Audio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RydAUOyjcEk).

Scott had thought that Stiles had been joking. Considering Stiles' virgin history and penchant for joking, Scott could be excused. But the truth was, Stiles wasn't.

His dreams used to the be the only place he could find, if temporary, satisfaction for his unusual need. It was hard to please oneself without ending up in the obituaries, which he refused to do to his dad, but it was just as impossible finding someone he trusted.

Derek he couldn't trust about a lot of things: he couldn't trust Derek not to be a martyring little shit; he couldn't trust Derek not to be a self-loathing little shit; he couldn't trust Derek to listen to him the first time when it came time to plot an enemy's demise. But he could trust him with this.

"Der- Derek," Stiles rasped against the claws wrapped around his throat.

Derek growled softly against his temple and rocked into him slow and deep, making Stiles' forehead slide against the sheets. As he pushed back in, Derek's thumb and forefinger tightened under his jaw, restricting his air. Black crept slowly into the edges of his vision, heightening the sensation of his boyfriend's heavily-muscled body draped over his back and thick arm wrapped around his waist, caging him in and making their skin hot and slick with sweat; the feel of soft linen turned scratchy against the over-heated skin of his forehead and forearms and knees; the way Derek's thick cock was so firm and so filling inside of him, dragging along his walls and pressing repeatedly against his prostate, sparking arousal to the tip of his cock and all the way to his toes; the gentle way the werewolf's forming knot pushed slightly in past Stiles' rim before easing back out.

It was an effort to force himself to relax, to not buck in Derek's hold, but finally, he succeeded, slumping down into the mattress. The second he did so, the hand around his throat loosened, allowing him to slowly suck air back into his lungs. He had to be careful not to go too fast, to not damage anything, but with the way the influx of oxygen dizzied him, damage was hardly the first thing on his mind.

There was a low rumble of pleasure against his ear and a single hard thrust that was no less slow or deep as he twitched at the continued onslaught of sensation. Soft fingertips tipped with claws carefully stroked his throat and lips over fangs pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. He made a single, low, pleading sound, right in the back of his throat, and Derek tightened his grip again.

Stiles lost all track of time, the world reduced to the sensations against his skin when his throat was held tight in those dangerous claws, and the rush of blood in his ears and air in his lungs when his throat was left bare. He couldn't count the number of times he almost blacked out, or came, the latter prevented by a long, slow squeeze around the base of his cock. The world tumbled and swirled around him, and it was only the heat and the strength in his boyfriend's body that kept him from flying away from the earth.

After an eternity, the gentle force of Derek's knot didn't recede, just kept pushing in as the hand around his throat tightened and tightened in time. He didn't have the energy to claw at the bed, or do anything but lay in the cage of his wolf's arm and feel every pulsating inch of Derek's knot as it was worked into him. He could even feel the second it was in all the way, by the way his ass tightened around the base of his boyfriend's cock, closing the knot inside of him. Spots danced in front of his eyes and from within his haze of pleasure, he could recognise that he was about to blackout, but that he could also do nothing to alert Derek of that fact.

Abruptly, the tightness on his throat eased and the world crashed down around him, pulling him down to drown in the undertow. Air rushed into his lungs as his orgasm rushed out his cock. He could feel the way Derek swelled within his fluttering walls, filling him so wonderfully full. Claws wrapped around his throat without pressure and fangs gripped his shoulder without piercing as his wolf thrust and rolled and shuddered his orgasm above and into Stiles.

The comedown was slow, his breath and vision both loathe to return to normal. His cock was pulsing in time with his heartbeat, probably drooling come with each throb of Derek's cock inside him, spilling more come into him than 1) was strictly necessary and 2) that a human male could produce.

"Stiles?" Hot breath ruffled his hair as his head was nudged to the side with a pert nose, soft lips tracing over his cheekbone and up to his eyebrow.

Rather than respond and antagonize his sore throat, Stiles huffed out his nose and shifted his hips, clenching intentionally around his wolf's knot.

Derek hissed and nipped at his ear, tightening the arm around his waist to keep him still, pinning his ass to his boyfriend's pelvis.

As they waited for his wolf's knot to go down, his ever-fastidious partner made sure he stayed awake, reversing their normality by building a running dialogue, constantly asking him questions that required him to answer, even if it was only with a shake of his head. Sometimes he would just gently thrust forward, reminding Stiles of the too-full/not-full-enough feeling of the thick length of heat inside of him.

When they were finally released, Derek withdrew slowly before racing to the bathroom for a wet cloth. Stiles may have nodded off for a moment because suddenly, his boyfriend was back, easing an ice pack under his throat and cleaning between his legs with a warm, wet cloth.

"You did good, Stiles," Derek praised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "If you want to sleep now, you can."

Stiles just smiled and risked humming when he was repositioned like a doll. His grumpy wolf may look like a serial killer sometimes, but he had the best bedside manner and knew exactly how to make Stiles comfortable and safe.

After he was in place, Derek crawled in after him and promptly disrupted all of his work when he draped an arm around Stiles' waist and pulled him tight to the werewolf's chest. After that, he wasn't even awake long enough to whisper 'Thank you.'

* * *

The second Stiles was conscious enough, he flung out an arm, reaching for his boyfriend, and was met only with a mound of pillows piled up just like he used to before they started dating, and cold sheets. He jackknifed into a sitting position, sending most of the pillows and his duvet to the floor. It wasn't just the pre-Derek pillow arrangement. He was fully dressed in pajama pants and that day's shirt. He was clean from head to toe. Sure, his asshole ached a bit, and it definitely felt like he'd had a good orgasm, but he could have just masturbated before he'd went to bed.

He lifted his fingers up, carefully counting to ten - just ten. So, he was awake now, but had he been last night, or were his too-realistic-to-tell-the-difference dreams coming back to him? Stiles' heart started pounding in his chest and he could feel his breath shortening as he slid into a panic attack.

Without warning, the bedroom door was shoved open and almost startled Stiles into a heart attack as he scrambled backwards on his bed and right into the corner. Derek stood in the doorway in his classic leather jacket, jeans, and boots, which he wore in life and in dreams alike, so that wasn't helpful. And instead of walking up to Stiles like Stiles imagined he would, he just stood there glaring around the room. He didn't know what to do.

If he acted like they were dating like he wanted them to be and they weren't, how bad would that turn out? Would he drive Derek out of Beacon Hills again? And if they were dating, and he acted like they weren't, how badly would that hurt him, how harshly would that reopen old wounds? Did last night happen? Or is the Nogitsune back? Stiles felt utterly helpless.

After a minute, Derek finally took another step into the bedroom. "Your heart started pounding the second you woke up. You okay?"

"Nightmare!" he squeaked. Okay, so, yeah, his throat was sore, but he could have choked himself in his sleep (again). He stayed still, pressed into the corner of the wall.

Derek frowned at him and stepped further into the bedroom, right up to Stiles' bed.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine just-" he continued to squeak, waving his arms around in as wide and as vague a fashion as he could manage.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Derek climbed up onto the bed and manhandled Stiles into his lap, tilting his head back to peer carefully at Stiles' throat. He sat rigidly on top of the werewolf's rock-hard thighs, now fairly sure that they were dating, but terrified he was wrong and that this was some wolf thing. Out of sight, he in no way expected the soft swipe of a tongue against the skin of his throat, and he jumped at the sensation.

"What the fuck is wrong with you this morning?" Derek growled.

Stiles very carefully did not look away from his ceiling. "Are we dating?" It was almost embarrassing how squeaky his voice was, but he was sure that's how it would've sounded with or without a sore throat. At least, for this particular question.

Now it seemed to be Derek's turn to still. "What?"

"I uh- I had this dream, or maybe it wasn't a dream but I'm honestly terrified that it was a dream because I'd really like it not to be a dream and if it turns out it was then I don't want it to get weird between us but if it wasn't then I'm all for getting weird and-"

It was hard to find ways to shut him up, but kissing seemed to do one hell of a job. And Derek was one hell of a kisser.

He kept it slow, gentle, and his hands were even more gentle where they cupped the back of Stiles' head, keeping him distracted with the slide of lips and tongue. Frantically, Stiles turned in Derek's lap and straddled him, wrapping his long legs around his boyfriend's waist and throwing his arms around his neck. It was all coming back to him now, timelines too long and convoluted to be dreamed up, and he needed to hang on to his wolf with everything he had. He hated this, that the Nogitsune had fucked him up so badly that he'd wake some days and not be able to tell if his last memory was a dream or not.

Stiles rolled his hips down and found his boyfriend as hard as he was, and he pulled back just enough to kiss across Derek's jaw and down his throat. "Can you knot me?"

Derek groaned and rolled them, pining Stiles' hips with his own and his wrists with hands that were just on the cusp of becoming claws. "I knotted you last night," he growled back, lapping carefully at the sore skin of Stiles' throat. "I bruised you, too. You have my handprint around your neck, Stiles."

The thought made Stiles moan and he tossed his head back, exposing his throat to his predator, tightening his legs and thrusting his erection up into his boyfriend's.

"God, how can you be so needy for me?" Rather than sounding like a bad porn line, Derek sounded awed, like Stiles' affection was a gift he could hardly believe he'd been given.

"Easy, grumpy wolf mine," Stiles rasped, trying to remove his shirt with one hand and his pants with his other. "You're gorgeous, your biceps could make lesser men weep, your cock makes me weep, but best of all, you love me as much as I love you."

Derek sat back on his heels and stared.

Stiles stared back, shirt stuck around his shoulders and pants down to his hips.

After a moment, Derek sighed. "God help me, I do," he muttered, but his smile was genuine and infectious. Relieved and happy, Stiles beamed right back.

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> There was in no way supposed to be that semi-angsty, sappy ending. Apparently my muses don't direct pure smut like they used to.
> 
> Please be aware that breathplay can be very dangerous, more-so if you're practicing alone. Always do your research on ways to play, and always use a partner you can trust. This [comment](http://dominantguide.com/176/take-your-breath-away-basics-of-breath-play/comment-page-1/#comnent-743660) on an article regarding the dangers of breathplay is, in ways, more helpful than the article itself as it advises on the best way to play whereas the article itself is more geared towards medical info that is good but also reads like scare tactics.
> 
> Reblog the [thing](http://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/131653688088). Tschüß.


End file.
